Page 6 of Ruthless Redemption

“Don’t say that.” He cupped my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “Don’t even think it.”

I blinked back tears. “Why not? It’s true. Although whatever they think they own is probably just on borrowed time. It’s probably just a matter of time before Frank finds a way to get me. Or worse—Marco.”

I didn’t know why I was letting the worst of my thoughts get to me. I guess because I’d repeatedly learned over the last couple of months that there was no such thing as a white knight. There was cruelty and then there was leverage. I’d been subject to both.

“I don’t ever want to hear your former fiance’s name on your beautiful lips again, is that understood?”

I should have argued. Hell, a few hours ago I would have probably spat in his face for attempting to tell me what to do. Now, it didn’t matter. The resignation was getting the best of me.

I took a deep breath and focused on my breathing like Patty had taught me in times of panic or regression. While I couldn’t control every aspect of my life, I could control my headspace.

I also thought about those nights in Seattle with the man currently staring down at me. Those moments in time were like a snapshot of happiness that I used as my safe haven when I needed it.

“Izzy?”

I clenched my fists at my side open and closed as I slowed my breathing and attempted to count to ten. So maybe I had some trouble keeping my emotions in check, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a right to them. And he’d hurt me more than I thought possible this morning.

“Izzy!” He grabbed my shoulder. “Are you listening to me?”

“Give me a minute.” I closed my eyes against his growing alarm and focused on keeping my breaths calm. In and out, nice and slow. My racing heart still beat erratically but after a few seconds of focusing on nothing, I began to feel the tension inside of me relax.

Houston suddenly dropped his hands and stepped away from me. “Are you having a panic attack?”

I shook my head. Not quite.

Instead of paying attention to my own thoughts or my normal go-to memories, I focused on everything else around me. The simplicity of Houston’s room offered a surprisingly calm vibe. I’d left the window open and I heard the rustle of the wind blowing through the trees outside.

Winter was around the corner. The faint fragrance of the recently burned apple candle someone had retrieved from my cabin still lingered, as did the general feel of cool moisture that always settled over everything this time of year in the Pacific Northwest. I could almost imagine the scent of damp earth and freshly fallen leaves if I tried hard enough.

There was also the scent of leather emanating from Houston that was impossible to miss. His cut. That little piece of the club that each one of them wore like a coat of armor and with immense pride. Is that how Houston felt about it now? Was he not a prisoner?

I blocked that out and tried to find something more positive to focus on, but everything about my badass permeated my senses. The motor oil and exhaust from his bike that evoked images of us flying down the road as my arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

The cool touch of the leather cut pressing against my cheek. Hard muscles flexing underneath my hands as he rode his bike with the expert touch of a man in tune with his machine.

“I can’t get you out of my head no matter what I do.”

He reached forward, cupped my neck and softly traced his thumb along my chilled skin. “I know the feeling.”

Something broke inside me then and I had no idea if that was bad or good. I only knew that I needed to ‘feel’ him—all of him—or I was going to die.

I grabbed his arms to steady myself and ended up clawing my way up to his neck until we were pressed together from hip to chest.

“I’m not sure this is healthy,” I panted as he pressed his lips to my forehead.

“Then healthy is overrated. I’m so sorry I misjudged you earlier. I won’t again.”

His hands gripped my ass and lifted me as I wrapped my legs around his waist. But when his erection hit the perfect spot between my legs I cried out with the sheer shocking intensity of it.

“Fuck,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, please. Please!” I wanted him inside me more than anything. Without him, like this, I’d been left feeling less than whole.

His hands tightened further and I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to mine.

Our lips collided like the break of a tidal wave in the middle of a hurricane. I held on for dear life as our lips and tongues battled amidst desperate need, regret and love. I didn’t care if it seemed impossible. Or that we hadn’t spent that much time together. Some things you just know, and I knew without a doubt that I loved him despite or because of everything that had happened.

I may have whimpered and I may have bit him, but I definitely got lost in that perfect frantic kiss.

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